On the running theme of my house, I've finally got curtains in my living room! (Naturally from ikea) I forgot to bring my camera in today, so I can't post the pictures of my long, flowing, white cotton curtains that are proudly hanging up in my lounge room. I desperatley wanted white indian silk curtains, that will catch the light in a lovely way, but for neither love nor money can I find them. Anywhere. Every other colour or type of silk. Just not the exact one I want. I know, I know - I should only buy something if it's exactly what I want, but I don't want to have an airline blanket hanging from my window in my front room 1000 billion times more than I want my perfect silk curtains, so I've decided to compromise for now. Compromise. That's a concept that's very much against my normal princess nature.
In the last 3 days we've also got all the shelves on my cabinet up, sporting some lovely books and an electric drill, plus a working phone line (yay! I can now get broadband installed. Life without the internet in your own home is a life I don't want to live every again).
3 jobs done, 20,574 more to do.
I'm currently obssessed with the apartment therapy's smallest coolest apartment competition. I love looking at other people's houses and seeing what they've done, especially when those people don't furnish their entire houses with that faux country farm style, so popular in magazines and diy shows. I have so many big ideas for my house, yet when I get home the only energy that I can muster seems to come to me in that perfect 2 hour slot between 10pm and midnight.
Annoyingly, since moving into my new flat, I've found myself obssessed with checking to see if the doors are locked. Usually, just as I'm about to fall asleep, I start to worry that the doors are in fact unlocked, allowing some chav to just walk into my flat, and brain us all with a shovel. Then of course that plays on my mind in my half asleep and dopey state, until I have to get up and check all the doors. And if I've only checked one door, and go back to bed, chances are I will start wondering about the other door has been locked, even though I know I locked it when I came home and no one else has gone through the door. Then up I get again, rapidly becoming more awake, go and check the second door, and trundle back to bed. Every single night I go through this moronic ritual. Every night. I'm hoping that this phase of paranoia is in fact a passing one, and that I won't end up, as I've always worried about, a paralysed-with-fear recluse, who pushes all the heavy furniture up against the doors to feel slightly safe in her own "castle".